Chapter 2

"From now on, we're square," I said.

I grabbed the pricey bottle of red wine from the tray.

Everyone's eyes widened in disbelief.

I twisted my wrist.

The deep red wine cascaded down, splashing all over Jonas's head and face.

"Ah!"

The young actress shrieked and jumped out of the way.

Jonas was soaked to the bone, red wine dripping from his hair in streams. He looked utterly miserable.

"Leona! I'm going to kill you!" he roared.

He shot up from the couch and lunged for my hair.

I stepped back, dodging his hand.

The countdown in my head hit zero.

[Disengagement complete.]

[300 million dollars has been deposited into your account.]

[Removing the 'simp filter' from the host... Removal complete.]

In that instant, I felt something heavy lift from my mind.

I glanced at Jonas, who was a soaked mess, roaring in rage, and thought I must've been blind to ever put up with him.

I turned and strode out of the private room.

Jonas's furious shouts rang out behind me.

"Leona! If you walk out that door, you're never coming back.

"I'll make sure you can't survive in Aurelia!"

I didn't even look back as I closed the door behind me, shutting out his yapping.

I scoffed to myself.

With 300 million dollars in cash, I could buy up half of Aurelia if I wanted.

As I stepped out of the private club, the cool night air hit my skin.

I pulled out my phone and stared at the long string of zeros in my bank account balance.

Ones, tens, hundreds, thousands, ten thousands... the digits just kept stacking up.

It was 300 million dollars.

The system's voice chimed in again.

[Host, thanks to your stellar performance during the mission, you've been granted a bonus 'Fate Snatching' bundle.]

[From now on, every time you humiliate the male lead or his harem, you'll be able to steal their fate value and convert it into your own assets or charisma points.]

I raised an eyebrow.

I was pleasantly surprised.

Jonas was just some lucky loser, riding on his family's money. Without that, he was nothing but a useless idiot.

For three years, every single outline, every storyboard, every late-night pitch for sponsors were all on me.

Yet he went around telling everyone I was just some dumb housewife who knew nothing about the business.

I quit. I'd like to see how long he could keep up that 'genius director' facade.

I flagged down a cab and headed straight for Aurelia's only seven-star hotel.

"Hello, miss. Do you have a reservation?" the receptionist greeted me politely.

She gave me a polite, slightly curious smile.

I glanced down at myself.

I wore faded jeans, a cheap tee, and a splash of wine still clinging to the fabric.

I definitely didn't look like I belonged in a place like this.

"No reservation. Give me your best presidential suite. I'll take it for a month," I said, not missing a beat.

I pulled out the black card the system handed me and placed it on the marble counter.

The receptionist paused for a second, but she kept her cool, not letting any judgment show on her face.

She took the card with both hands and ran it through the reader.

In the next moment, her demeanor flipped; she was suddenly super respectful, with a hint of nervousness in her eyes.

The receptionist said, "Madam, your presidential suite on the top floor is ready and waiting for you.

"A dedicated butler will be at your service. If you'll follow me, please."

Lying on a mattress that probably cost tens of thousands of dollars, I let out a contented sigh.

This was the life.

My phone wouldn't stop buzzing.

I picked it up and saw Jonas blowing up my phone with missed calls and messages.

[Leona, where the hell are you?]

[Get your ass back here and do my laundry!]

[You think one hundred grand makes you all that? That's not even enough for a single bottle of wine tonight!]

[You've got half an hour. If you're not here, I'm tossing all your crap out!]

I glanced at those messages and just found them hilarious.

Back then, seeing stuff like this would make me freak out. I'd hop in a cab and rush home, scared he'd lose his mind.

Now I went ahead and changed his contact name to "Loser Dog #1," then switched him to Do Not Disturb.

If he wanted to toss my things out, just do so.

That crappy apartment was packed with stuff meant for him anyway; aside from a few old clothes, nothing in there was really mine.

I was just about to crash when my phone rang again.

It was an unknown number.

I picked up.

"Hello? Is this Leona?"

It was a woman's voice, laced with arrogance and smug satisfaction.

It was Donna Grote, the young actress from earlier tonight.

She said, "Mr. Reed's drunk and keeps puking. Come over and look after him.

"I've sent you the address. Make sure to bring some hangover medicine and a change of clothes."

Her tone was so casual, like she was just ordering the household staff around.

I chuckled and spoke into the phone,

"If he's so into puking, just let him eat his own vomit.

"And don't bother calling me again. You're gross."

Then I hung up and blocked her.

For once, I slept better than ever.

No Jonas snoring next to me, no more getting dragged out of bed at midnight to bring him water.

Just the intoxicating aroma of cash filled the air.

The next morning, I woke up hungry.

I went all out and ordered the hotel's most luxurious brunch.

I had lobster, a black truffle omelet, and fresh-squeezed juice.